


The Flight

by Norias



Category: Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Norias/pseuds/Norias
Summary: Dale does a night flight. To see how it went, please read the story.
Kudos: 2





	The Flight

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Полёт](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/636961) by Роман Булыгин. 



> Chip, Dale, Gadget, Monty, Zipper and any other included personages are (c) Walt Disney Company. You can distribute this freely, but don't modify it and don't use it for the commercial gain.  
> All things here are just a tribute to my graphomania. If You wont read further, you will not lose anything and possibly will save your time.  
> 10.18.1998

The engines were working fine, and the propellers with the barely heard sound were cutting through the air. Dale, by sheer luck missing the auto eject button, had at last turned on the autopilot. It pulled the plane into a horizontal flight path and kept it on the set course. That done, Dale pulled out from the pocket a small and dirty piece of paper and tried to understand what was written on it into the shadowy lights coming from the indicator panel. Even if Gadget had bothered him to study the flight plan and learn the test settings of her newest portable infrared flashlight for a week, he only now had got the free time to do that. After a minute, at last getting ok where the top and bottom of the map was, Dale started to read it. "So… Turn at the skyscraper. The park... Interesting, why Chip so easily let me fly RangerWing, today it was his time... Would he again try to hit on Gadget... aha... Turn again. And this..." part of the paper was smeared with the machine oil. "... Looks like the city trash place. Why make such a wide circle? May it be that Gadget specially is sending me far away... Hmm..." Dale placed the paper into his pocket and sharply turned the steering. There was no reaction. Dale pulled up his lip and started to think. After some time he remembered, but he had to spend even more time to turn the autopilot off. After that he placed the Wing into a quite less sharp turn that he had planned before, aiming toward the dying sunset. "And why to run in circles... The shortest road is the fastest way. Maybe I will still get home before the evening horror movie starts?" Dale without looking hit at the panel. Sheer luck - autopilot came on again.

Felling back into the chair, crossing legs over the steering, he sat and looked up, trying to remember what he had to do with the tests. "Fly over the big hill of the old tires - three dots. Then the guard house - two dots. Or was it three and the tires two? And then... Hmm, wondering, what is this star?"

The night was coming into the full reign over the Earth. There was no Moon, and only the Milky Way crossed the sky, filling it with the milliards of stars. Eternal and never ending emptiness opened its borders. Dale remembered some space operas he had seen, and went afraid. So puny now felt all their special effects against this silent emptiness, how shallow looked all the plots and the plights against the endless Universe... Shocked by this discovery, he only silently looked. Even the wind and the engine sounds no more were present into his way toward the stars.

Something hit hardly on the end of the wing, and the plane nearly rolled over. Dale immediately went back to the normal position. One kick at the pult, to turn off the autopilot, and he looked outside. "Thank goddess!" Dale gaped, pulling steering at him. "It was too low." Plane's nose started to rise.

The light and sound of the explosion reached him at the same time. RangerWing lurked, like he had hit some reef, and from the left engine side came a terrible whine, that immediately broke off, only to be replaced with the terrible sound of something beating at something. The plane was lurching with each beat. Dale tried to gain some high, when the steering tore from his paws - the engine had at last stopped, and the plane tried to roll into the way opposite the propeller. When there was the sharp sound of some electric excharge behind, Dale's heart was about to give up. And then there was only silence.

Seconds later, he heard how his own blood was pulsating into the temples. Then there was a slow whooshing sound, as the air was speeding past the plane. Taking one look at the dark pult, Dale turned the plane into a slow descent and started to think, how far he would get from the current place. How he could forget about that stupid small bald man, the egg collector. "Unfortunately, egg loving doesn't automatically mean bird loving..." Some high buildings came up ahead. Dale didn't even try to turn away - the steering was broken, and at any unbalancing move the plane threatened to enter a sharp rolling dive. The bottom of the plane hit the roof, and after a few meters of the tin-rattling it stopped. "I hope I didn't wake up anyone." Dale jumped out of the plane and then the legs gave in and he sat down. The legs felt like jelly, the hands were shaking, and his jaw was trying to impersonate a morze key into the hands of a drunk radio-professional. It was so funny, that at any other time Dale would have broken into laughing, but not now. He slowly got himself back, and, to calm down, stretched over the still warm steel.

Stars again came into his view. Far and could, they were shining up there, somewhere into the unimaginable distance. Alone between their endless neighbours. "They were there before me... and will be... after..."

From somewhere came a cold breeze, and Dale shivered. He felt relaxed and so stood up to check the plane. The part of the left propeller was gone. It was rediscovered very soon - half-embedded into the plane fuselage near the back seats was the missing feather. "If there had been someone, it would have ended tragically," Dale shivered again, but this time not from the coldness. Only now he started to understand what had almost happened. Here and there into the plastic were sitting the small pieces of lead. Pulling them out, he was thinking about the friends. They possibly were now sitting at the front of the TV set, watching the evening program, talking and slowly sipping the natural coffee. Or Monty was telling one of his endless stories about one of his past adventures. And they didn't even suspect what had happened to him. And he didn't even know where he had landed... "Well, I do, but it doesn't change a bit, I wont get home earlier than tomorrow. And the plane…" He placed the fingers on the still warm engine, like trying to pass some life into the dead metal. It felt like he was similar to this piece of broken trash...

N ot even knowing, why, Dale pushed the plane. And, to his surprise, it started to slide down the slope. "Stop! Stop you piece of crap!" Dale screamed and chased after it. He had to spend much force to stop the downward movement. Placing the brakes to ensure it won't repeat, Dale entered into deep thoughts. The heroes of his comic collection had met many challenges, but such a trivial one they had never met. The aliens, the monsters, the enemy spies - please! - but to be stuck with the dead engine a few miles from the closest base - not once. "Maybe if I could start the engines... But why maybe?" Dale tossed open the battery compartment. Quick look showed the guilty part - one of the wires had burned. Remembering how Gadget would do it, Dale pulled off the remains of the isolation from the both ends, crossed them... and nearly got first degree burns on his paws. For a moment the lightning had blinded him, the wire got so hot, the isolation started to melt. Yet it stayed that way, and to Dales great joy, the pult again was light-up. Relaxing for a bit, Dale got over to the engine. The two remaining feathers still were attached to it, but refused to move. Dale tried with the greater force, but it resulted in new downslide. Dale went back to the cabin and started to look under the seats. With a happy cry he pulled out Gadget's instrument pack. The fourth key at last fit the nuts, and the engine cover came off. Instead of the sophisticated hydraulic transmission resolver, Gadget had built into it, now from the main screw axle were hanging scraps of bent and mangled metal. They were what had stopped the engine from running freely. Armed with the hammer and key, Dale, smearing the leaking oil onto every place he could, at last pulled the remains of Gadget's mastermind invention out of its place. The screw now was free to rotate - the chipmunk tested it by shortly cross wiring the power. "Only the hole seems too big..." Dale got a plastic holder and tried to set it into the place of transmission. Quarter an hour later the newborn mechanical genius at last had placed it on screw and hammered into the hole. Quickly attaching back the remains of the propeller, retying - where would - the steering ropes, and rechecking the wiring, Dale kicked the brakes out from under the plane and gave it a big push. Into the downward run jumping in, he immediately held onto the steering.

Crossing the end of the roof, the plane immediately went into nose-first dive, but, when it had gained some speed, the steering started to work. Dale turned on the engines. The plane shook violently, but the left engine still worked and kept the RangerWing from running in circles. Sure, the terrible whining sound, the vibrations and the smell of burning plastic didn't leave a good impression, but at least the plane held into the air. And the turns to the right were possible to do only by turning to left for more that 180+ degrees, but it only spiced up the senses. "It works, it works, it works!" Dale was singing these words to every melody he knew. Because with every circle the propellers made, he was coming a bit closer to the Headquarters.

He was flying home. He will be home.

The End


End file.
